


The Lone Lamp

by Teenyttt



Series: Little Opuses [5]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Oneshot, Short Story, Suspense, a lamp and its man, but idk, descriptive, its a lamp, its just a lamp, probably stalking someone tbh, we dont know, whats the man doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 21:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teenyttt/pseuds/Teenyttt
Summary: What the heck is this guy doing?





	The Lone Lamp

It flickered. It was a dim, shallow, pale yellow beam, cast onto the ravenous weeds below, sucking in what little light they could. They were a sickly dark green, their leaves churning this way and that to get the most of the tiny sun.

Occasionally, between the clumping emerald green weeds gasping at the dusty air of the deserted rural town, there would be a puny white flower with a butter-yellow middle and pink-tipped petals. The flower with would be almost engulfed by the forest of entangled weeds which growing in the crooked cracks of the concrete roads. Vines, with their creeping tendrils and snaking leaves were climbing up the rough stone wall beside the lamp.

The lamp could not light up the streets engulfed in the shadows and darkness of the night, and which were most certainly teeming with various insects and unwanted creatures. The wind howled and invisible owls and crickets added on to the cacophony of the night. The sky was a deep ocean blue, mixed with a dark purple swirled together with stars that dotted the sky with shiny points of light. The moon was full and was closer to the earth than ever before.

In the shadows, carefully hidden from prying eyes, was a man in his forties, watching intently at the spot of light. The man dressed in plain black clothes and a black ski masked, would not be distracted by anything. He stayed still as a stone when a firefly with a blooming yellow tail light buzzed around his ear. He stayed crouching silently without so much a twitch of his finger. He did not move even when a cricket suddenly landed on his wrinkled hand. His keen ears could hear his own heart, beating at a slow constant speed. He drew in hardly any breath and let out even less. He waited, and waited, and waited. Then his right ear twitched. He heard something.

Something or someone coming.

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'ed help.
> 
> i live for kudos, comments, bookmarks and constructive feedback, anything you can give really
> 
> rly, i wrote this a long time ago. when i was like 14 or smth and my writing style sucked (haha not like it dosent now, I mean sucked more than it does now) and the only thing i focused on was being as descriptive as possible, like the description that you can see I was trying to reel in for my other story Staircase to Heaven. These two stories are heavily, HEAVILY cut down on the description. Like before I edited it it was like there had to be an adjective at least every 3 words. So children. Important lesson. Don't overdo your descriptions like me unless you wanna sound like a rambling asshole. Readers, unless patient, don't have energy or time to read what the exact colour, size, texture and religion of the picket white fence you're describing (wow is that, could that possibly be, hypocrisy in the same sentence????). Cheers.


End file.
